


An Unlikely Pairing

by esorave



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Rituals, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8249477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esorave/pseuds/esorave
Summary: Have you ever wondered what would happen if Severus Snape met Stiles Stilinski? No?Well, I wrote it anyway.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Unfinished and probably won't be finished for a long time.

“It’s a slap in the face, is what it is. The universe’s version of a bitch slap.”

 

“Ginny,” said Hermione, placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder and trying to soothe her, “I’m sure that we can cure this if we research it enough.”

 

“Cure _this_?” she screeched, gesturing to the body lying still and silent on the bed. “We don’t even know what _this_ is. It’s been weeks, Hermione. Weeks. I come in here everyday, and he’s the same. Not worse or better, just _this_.”

 

Hermione took the other seat next to Harry’s bed and held his hand. “I’m working on it Gin. Harry is strong. He’s been through worse and he’s survived before. He’ll do it again.”

 

Ginny laughed, cold and eerie. “That’s just it. He survived fighting Voldemort for years. He survived the killing curse. Twice.” She stood and started pacing. “Then it’s all over. We win. Harry becomes an Auror, and only two months into his training, he goes after a few stray Death Eaters and comes back like _this_.”

 

“Ginny--”

 

“I have to fix this. I’ll fix this. If they can’t find a cure, I’ll just bring my soulmate back myself.”

 

Hermione didn’t push anymore. What if she was right? What if Harry wasn’t going to get better? Ginny was his soulmate after all, and the connection between soulmates was--

 

“Merlin! I’ve got it!”

 

“Got what?” asked Ginny, resigned. She knew this moment because she had seen it many times. Hermione was having a breakthrough--again.

 

“Soulmates have an extremely strong connection from birth. You’re souls are quite literally tethered. Now, the spell that Harry was hit with somehow managed to bind his soul so that he is trapped within his own body--”

 

“It what?! Why was I not told this?”

 

“Not now Ginny,” scolded Hermione. “His soul is bound, and nothing we’ve been able to do has released it. But you, Ginny. If we can find a way to tap into your connection, we might be able to latch onto Harry and pull his soul free.”

 

Ginny stared her friend straight in the eye. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

 

____________________

 

 

The ritual was anything but simple. There were potions Ginny couldn’t name, runes she couldn’t read, and charms she couldn’t understand. Nevertheless, Ginny had faith in Hermione, who had spent a few weeks preparing everything and triple checking its accuracy. 

 

Ginny really hoped this worked.

 

She was currently straddled across Harry’s lifeless body, having already drunk her foul tasting potions. Harry stared at the ceiling, eyes vacant. She missed seeing the light in his green eyes.

 

Hermione had set everything up. The moon was full tonight, and clear white light streamed in through the hospital window. Everything was ready--all Hermione had left to perform were the charms.

 

The hospital room was a double, shared with Professor Snape who had been hit with a similar curse during the Battle of Hogwarts. If it wasn’t for his lack of progress, Ginny might not have gotten this desperate this soon. But she was desperate.

 

“This will work,” she whispered to herself.

 

“Shush, I’m about to begin.”

 

Ginny closed her eyes and let the magic rush over her as Hermione began to chant. This wasn’t dark magic, per se, but it was a powerful blend of old and new that had never been attempted before.

 

Ginny felt a tug on her heart, so strong it almost pulled her flat on top of Harry. The words that curved under her breast-- _his words--_ began to burn in a pleasurable pain. Her

whole body was alight with a buzzing fire. And then...she felt him.

 

_“Harry!”_ she screamed in her mind. _“Harry, I love you. Come back! Come back!”_

 

“Harry!” she screamed.

 

He called back. “Ginny!”

 

Ginny’s eyes flew open and meet deep, vibrant green ones dancing with life. 

 

She hugged him and his arms came up to hug her back. He was weak, but he was here. He was alive. 

 

“I love you, Harry.”

 

“I love you, too, Gin.”

 

“Don’t you ever dare leave me again, Harry James Potter! I mean it!” Ginny had intended to sound stern, but instead she started to cry.

 

Hermione began to feel uncomfortable watching the sad-happy reunion. Wanting to give them privacy but not wanting to go too far, she slipped behind the curtain and into Professor Snape’s section of the room. 

 

Her plan had worked. She was ecstatic, but at the same time saddened because she hadn’t helped Professor Snape. He had been in this state much longer than Harry had. 

 

Hermione wasn’t exactly sure what possessed her to do what it was she did next. 

 

Maybe it was a combination of sleep exhaustion and endorphins, maybe she was just being an idiot, but Hermione had no idea who Professor Snape’s soulmate was and she was starting to think that it didn’t really matter.

 

So, she dribbled the extra potion she had made ‘just in case’ down his throat, painted the runes on him and on the floor by his bed because she lacked a second body, cast a silencing charm, and began the ritual all over again.

 

It was working. 

 

She could feel what she felt last time, only stronger. It was straining her magic, but she was determined. As Hermione continued her chant, a wind picked up in the room, whipping her bushy hair around her face. She had to chant louder to hear herself over the howl of the wind. The air swirled around Professor Snape and he levitated above his bed. 

 

As Hermione said the last line of the chant, a blinding light expelled all darkness from the room and she was knocked to the ground. Then the darkness returned, and with it, silence.

 

Severus opened his eyes.

 

______________

 

Stiles didn’t cry at his father’s funeral. He had no more tears left to shed. 

 

It was funny really. Stiles tried so hard to protect his father. He force fed him salads. He made sure he exercised. He kept so many secrets from him to protect him from the supernatural, and he risked his life time after time. But in the end, it was just a drunk driver and shit luck that took his father from him. He wasn’t even on duty that night.

 

Sometimes, it didn’t feel like his father was dead. He thought that maybe he was dreaming. Or maybe the nogistune still had him and he was just living out a fantasy within his head. 

 

But Stiles had learned how to tell reality from fantasy. And this funeral, with all his friends dressed in black, and Melissa crying on her son’s shoulder. This was real.

Stiles stood by the grave after everyone had left. They had tried to take him with them to the wake--it was at his house after all--but he just told Melissa to use her key and let people in. 

 

Scott offered to stay with him, but Stiles could tell that he didn’t really want to. Their friendship hadn’t had time to heal yet from all the shit. No, it was best he stay alone.

 

It was dusk when Stiles finally decided to go home. He had driven over with Scott and Melissa, so now he had to walk back. He didn’t mind.

 

A mournful howl echoed in the night. The full moon was low in the sky and illuminated his way.

 

Stiles realized something was wrong just before the wind began to pick up. His spidey-senses were screaming on high alert. His heart started to squeeze and he felt lightheaded. Stiles bent at the knee and screamed. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but he hoped Scott would hear him and come. 

 

The last thing Stiles felt before he blacked out were his soulmate’s words searing on his chest like a brand.

 

_____________

 

Stiles slowly blinked himself awake. He was sure he had only blacked out for a second, but the asphalt beneath his hands was replaced by a cool, smooth floor, and instead of a bright night sky, he was met with a darkened ceiling. 

 

Stiles sat up a bit. His chest ached so he rubbed the heel of his palm against it. His ears were ringing horribly so he shook his head. As he looked around, he realized that he was in some sort of old-school hospital room, only less hospital-y. There was no medical equipment, but there were odd glass bottles scattered on a nearby table and a curtain surrounding a man in a bed with a young woman was fussing over him. It was like Stiles wasn’t even there.

 

The room seemed very clean, but as his eyes adjusted, Stiles could see runes written all over the floor.

 

His first thought was ‘kidnapped by druids’. His second thought was ‘I must be dreaming because _why?!_ ’ 

 

Stiles counted the fingers on his hand. Ten. He counted them again. Still ten. The pamphlet from his Dad’s funeral was in his back pocket. He pulled it out and read it with ease. So, definitely not a dream.

 

Druid kidnapping it was then.

 

The man and the young woman hadn’t seemed to notice him yet, for whatever reason. He thought about making a break for it, but if they were powerful enough to teleport him, he probably wouldn’t make it far. Besides, he had absolutely no idea where he was.

 

Stiles went for option two: gather intelligence. He laid back down, and closed his eyes. 

 

As the ringing in his ears subsided, he could make out bits of their conversation. The man was calling the young woman a “foolish girl” and a “brainless twit” and she seemed to be having none of it. In the next moment, they noticed him.

 

___________

 

“Miss Granger,” Severus sneered. “Who, pray tell, is that?”

 

The chit looked at him with wide eyes and shook her head. “I have no idea!”

 

Severus tried to see the figure better, but it was dark in the room.

 

“Miss Granger, do something useful for once and light a bloody candle!”

 

“Of course Professor!” She lit several candles in the room with a wave of her wand.

 

“And fetch me my wand,” he snapped.

 

She shook her head again. “I don’t have it, Sir.”

 

Of course not. She may have saved his wretched existence, and she may have been top of her class for years, but she would always be a daft chit to him.

 

Severus turned his attention to the boy on the floor. He was wearing a black muggle suit and trying very hard to feign unconsciousness. Actually, he was quite good at it. If Severus wasn’t a spy who had perfected the art himself, he probably would have believed it.

 

_“Sit up, boy, and show us your face. A toddler could see that you are merely feigning sleep, and while I normally have much more patience than a three-year-old, I am feeling quite irritable tonight.”_

 

_________

 

Stiles eyes flew open the moment he heard those words. _His words!_ His soulmate was sitting right behind him in that not-hospital bed. And was apparently also a bit of an ass, but he’d figured that much out already. The accent was a nice surprise though.

 

Stiles took a big breath and stood, composing himself before he turned around.

 

The man was obviously sickly. He was sitting up and had long black hair that was disheveled from the bed. He was dressed in a long white nightgown with light blue sheets pooled around his waist. His nose was long and hooked, and his eyes were dark and deep. He was also quite a bit older, probably twice Stiles age. 

 

He seemed worn and weathered, like he had witnessed suffering and knew death. Oddly, all of this comforted Stiles.

 

Stiles had been practicing what to say to his soulmate. He had a thousand rehearsed lines in his head, but for some reason, no words passed his lips.

 

“Hello,” said the young woman. On second thought, she was more of a girl Stiles’ age. “My name is Hermione Granger, and you are?”

 

Stiles cocked his head and studied her a bit before responding, “Stiles Stilinski.”

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Stiles.”

 

She would have seemed nice enough if she hadn’t kidnapped him on the day of his father’s funeral.

 

“Too bad I can’t say the same Hermione. Why did you kidnap me exactly?”

 

She gapped like fish and seemed honestly surprised. “Kidnapped? No! I didn’t mean to. You weren’t supposed to be here.”

 

“You mean you just accidentally teleported me here? Sure, I’ll believe that when pigs fly.”

 

“Oh great.” The man rolled his eyes. “Congratulations, Miss Granger, you have summoned an American muggle to my ailing bedside.”

 

“I just saved your life, Severus Snape!” she scolded. “If it weren’t for me, you’d still be trapped inside your own body.”

 

The man, Severus, tried to sit up more and Hermione fluffed the pillows up behind his back. “That would have been preferable,” he grumbled. “Or, better yet, you should have just killed me. Merlin knows I wouldn’t be missed.”

 

_“Don’t say that!”_ Stiles yelled, the loud sound surprising everyone in the room, himself included. _“I just met you, you don’t get to say that! So suck it up, Severus, because--”_ Stiles stopped himself, his anger deflating like a popped balloon. _“Sorry, I just. Those are horrible first words. Um, hi. I’m your soulmate. I think. Also, I tend to ramble. Sometimes. You really should stop me, otherwise--”_

 

“Stop!”

 

“Yeah. Thanks, for that. I guess,” said Stiles.

 

Hermione looked between them awkwardly before starting to back away. “I’m just going to go.”

 

“You will do no such thing, Miss Granger. This is your mess. Now, fix it.”

 

His soulmate wouldn’t look at him. Stiles looked around the room. Finding a chair, he pulled it up to Severus’ bed and plopped down. 

 

“I think I am owed an explanation,” he said, crossing one leg over the other. His suit was starting to itch. It was the same one he had worn to the winter formal, and it was a little small on him now. He wondered if Scott had noticed him missing. Maybe. Possibly. If so, everyone must be worried sick by now. Or maybe they were all relieved. Stiles couldn’t tell anymore.

 

Stiles scrubbed a hand over his face.

 

Severus addressed Hermione. “He is a muggle, Miss Granger. Obliviate him and send him back to whence he came.”

 

Stiles was suddenly standing. “Woah, woah, woah. Wait a minute. Obliviate as in oblivious as in mess with my memories? I don’t think so. I don’t care if you are druids or darachs or whatever, but you are not getting in my mind.”

 

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Druids or darachs? She is a witch and I am a wizard you dunce. And you are clearly a muggle, a non-magical human, if you would. This world is not for you. We will erase your memory, and you will wake up only having missed a little bit of time. You can return to your boring muggle world none the wiser and go on living the rest of your days in ignorance.

 

“Now, Miss Granger. Bring. Me. My. Wand!”

 

The girl seemed frightened and properly scolded. “But he’s--”

 

“Now!”

 

“Yes, Professor. I’ll just check on Harry and Ginny first, and then I’ll find a mediwitch who can fetch it for you.” Hermione backed out of the curtain and fled.

 

Stiles wasn’t sure why he wasn’t doing the same. He was pretty sure now that the door wasn’t locked since he wasn’t actually kidnapped. But this was his soulmate. And he didn’t have his wand yet, which Stiles assumed meant he was relatively harmless.

 

Stiles sat in the chair again. “You don’t know anything about me, Severus,” he said calmly. Stiles could feel the numbness setting in again, now that the adrenaline was leaving his system.

 

Severus scoffed, “I know enough.” He eyed Stiles up and down and a smirk appeared on his face. “What fancy muggle event did Miss Granger pull you from? I imagine your disappearance made quite the spectacle.” 

 

“I doubt that,” said Stiles, relaxing back into his chair. “I was walking home alone from my father’s funeral.”

 

The smirk vanished from Severus’ face. “Your mother must be worried then.”

 

Stiles laughed, the sound cold and hollow. Severus was beginning to feel uncomfortable in the boy’s presence.

 

“The dead don’t worry.”

 

Severus let the silence linger a moment. The candles were beginning to burn down slightly. 

 

“Still,” said Severus, “you are a child. Someone must be missing you.”

 

Stiles shrugged. “Perhaps. Scott must have realized by now. Maybe. Actually no, he probably hasn’t noticed.” Stiles laughed again and Severus quirked his eyebrow. “It’s funny, you see, because this is not the first time I’ve been kidnapped. Not the second either. I tend to get kidnapped a lot.”

 

It was obvious that Severus was debating whether or not to believe his story. 

 

“Anyway, Scott’s never noticed before, so why would he notice now?”

 

__________

 

This kid was weird. Severus had no idea why they were supposed to be soulmates. Kidnapped multiple times? What kind of muggle was he?

 

There was a darkness in his eyes too. Severus hadn’t noticed it at first, but it was obvious now. This kid, Stiles, had a darkness in him.

 

“Why were you kidnapped?”

 

“Why do you care?” Stiles snapped. “Your just going to ‘oblivious’ me anyways, so what does it matter?”

 

“I--” Severus stopped himself. Why did he care? He didn’t. Really. They had each other’s first words tattooed on their bodies. So what? He never really believed in soulmates anyway.

 

“Come here,” ordered Severus.

 

“What?”

 

“I said, come here. Sit on the bed so I can look into your eyes.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Just do it.”

 

“No,” said Stiles, backing away from the bed. “I don’t trust you.”

 

In the same moment that Stiles was seriously considering bolting, Hermione returned with Severus’ wand. The second the smooth wood hit his hand, Severus turned it on Stiles, binding him with an incarcerous. He would have fallen in his struggles to be free, but Severus levitated him back to the chair and tied him to it. 

 

The boy was screaming his protests, but Severus ended that with a simple silencio. Swinging his legs over the edge of the hospital bed, Severus braced himself on the arms of Stiles chair. He had to look into the boy’s head so that he could obliviate him with precision.

 

“Legilimins.”

 

_______________

 

 

Stiles could feel him as he entered his mind. It was painful at first; his memories flittered by in rapid succession, too quick to tell what they really were. But when Stiles caught a glimpse of the white room--that horrible place were he was locked inside his own head for so long--he latched onto it. 

 

In the next moment, Stiles was sitting crisscross on the nemeton inside the white room. Severus was across from him, and an oddly intricate chessboard was between them.

 

“What is this?” asked Severus.

 

Stiles looked up and studied his soulmate. He didn’t seem so sickly anymore. He was dressed in long black robes that made him seem stiff, but his hair was wavy, black, and light in a way that gave the opposite impression.

 

“You’re the one in my head. Shouldn’t you know what this is?”

 

“You’re skilled in occlumency.”

 

“I don’t know what that is,” said Stiles.

 

“What are you?”

 

“The token human.”

 

Severus’ face took on a suspicious expression. “What is that supposed to mean?”

 

“I meant exactly what I said,” retorted Stiles. 

 

“What do you know of the Wizarding World?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Then why call your humanity a token thing?” asked Severus.

 

“Why do you want to erase my memories of you?” retorted Stiles.

 

“Why have you been kidnapped before?” asked Severus.

 

“Why don’t you want me?” Stiles blurted. He hadn’t meant to ask that. It had slipped out, but he wasn’t regretting it now. It was a good question.

 

Severus took his time to respond. 

 

“I never said I didn’t want you,” he replied.

 

“But you’re trying to get rid of me,” retorted Stiles.

 

“Fool!” said Severus. “I am trying to protect you!”

 

“From what?” asked Stiles.

 

“From me!” he shouted, standing in the white room. He stood out starkly against his surroundings. He towered over Stiles, imposingly, and honestly quite threateningly. 

 

“You wouldn’t want me if you knew me,” hissed Severus. “Knew the things I had to do in the war. A war about which you also know nothing.”

 

Stiles stood to maintain equal ground. He was almost as tall as Severus, but not quite. His response was calm and almost mournful. “What makes you think that you aren’t the one who needs protecting from me?”

 

That shocked Severus, who many would know, was not easily shocked. He decided to change tactics.

 

“I’ve killed people,” Severus stated bluntly.

 

Stiles wasn’t the least bit fazed. He actually rolled his eyes. “So have I. Next?”

 

Severus’ lip twitched angrily. Who was this child? This wasn’t a game. 

 

“I’m serious,” said Severus. Stiles gestured for him to go on, so he did. “I’ve tortured people. Sometimes even people who would have called me a friend.”

 

The boy actually scoffed at that. “I twisted a sword in my best friend’s stomach and got high off of the pain. I may have been possessed at the time, but I was one with my possessor. I felt what he felt. Did what he did. And sometimes I think he never quite left me.”

 

Stiles smirked and quirked up one eyebrow. “Next?”

 

 

____________

 

 

Ginny and Harry pulled back Severus’ curtain to see what all the ruckus was about. What they found was absurd.

 

Severus was awake, for one, and sitting on the edge of his bed in his sleeping gown, staring into the eyes of a young man their age who was bound with several ropes. Ginny raised an eyebrow at Hermione, who had a look of confusion plastered on her face. 

 

“They’re, um, soulmates,” said Hermione. “But I’m not sure what the universe was thinking.”

 

Ginny studied the young man again. His lips were moving like he was talking, but she couldn’t hear anything. She pulled out her wand and tested the air before removing the silencio on him.

 

“xt?” he said.

 

She assumed they were having a conversation. Severus was still as stone, but this boy--his soulmate--was saying everything he was thinking.

 

“No,” he said.

 

Ginny turned to Hermione. “What do you think they are talking about?” she asked her.

 

“I have no idea,” she said.

 

“Because bad things happen to the people closest to me,” the young man said. Then, after a pause. “No, but we’re going to be........... Ha, yeah, well, I’d like to at least try. What’s the worst that could happen?................. Haha, that it might.......... Can we get out of here now though? I spent a long time trapped inside this place and I’d rather not stay here longer than necessary.”

 

Ginny could see the moment the connection was severed and the two were back in their own minds. The young man leaned back in his chair, still bound. 

 

“Mind losing the ropes now Sev? I’m all for trying new things, but I think this is something better explored without an audience.”

 

Ginny gaped as she watched red creep onto her old Potions Professor’s cheeks as he removed the bonds. This whole scene was ridiculous. 

 

_________

 

“Any other requests?” sniped Severus. No amount of training could have ever prepared him for this clusterfuck.

 

Stiles stretched out a bit, reaching for the ceiling and then rolling his shoulders. The suit jacket was too tight to be comfortable, so he shucked it. “For starters, I probably should call someone like Lydia and let people know that I have not been kidnapped. Again.”

 

“Wait, what?” asked Ginny. 

 

Harry was embracing his fiancé from behind, resting his weight gently against her. His chin was hooked over her shoulder as he studied the stranger. His mind felt fuzzy, so he simply watched the conversation as an observer.

 

“Do you have a phone?” asked Stiles, who for once in his life was ignoring the redhead in the room. 

 

“No.” Severus’ face settled into his trademark scowl as he drew on all of his occlumency training to keep his emotions in check. 

 

“Oh!” Hermione squeaked. “I have a cell phone you can use.” The witch rummaged through the pockets of her traveling robes until she pulled out a small snakeskin purse. “This case is made of basilisk skin, to keep ambient magic from interfering with the electronics when I’m not using it.”

 

Stiles took the offered phone and quickly dialed Lydia’s number. She picked up after a few rings.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hey, Lyds.”

 

“Stiles,” she said sadly. “Where are you calling from? We missed you at the wake.”

 

Stiles scoffed. “I’m sure. Listen, Lydia, I just wanted to let you know that I’m okay, and not to worry about me.”

 

“Stiles! That is the exact wrong thing to say if you don’t want me to worry about you!”

 

A small smile graced Stiles lips. “Sorry. Look, I, uh...” _Shit, how am I supposed to explain this._ “Well, good news first I guess. I met my soulmate!”

 

“Holy shit,” said Lydia. “Seriously? When? How?”

 

“When? About half an hour ago. How? Well, he’s a...wizard?” Severus rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Yeah, and--”

 

"The Statute of Secrecy!" screamed Hermione. "You cannot simply tell people about us because you feel like it, Stiles!" She moved to swipe the phone away from him, but he easily ducked away.

 

"Calm down," said Stiles. "Lydia's a banshee. I hardly think learning that wizards exist is going to be earth-shattering." That stopped Hermione in her tracks. She shared a look with Severus that Stiles interpreted as 'Did you hear what I heard'

 

“Wait. Did you say wizard?” asked Lydia. 

 

Stiles nodded into the phone. “And apparently someone botched a ritual”--“Hey!”--“and ended up teleporting me here.”

 

“Here where?” asked Lydia, taking in the whole situation with her usual grace now that the initial shock had passed.

 

Stiles winced. “Uh, England?”

 

Lydia growled. “Are you asking me Stiles?”

 

Stiles swallowed. “Uh, no. I’m in England.” Stiles looked around the room. "Right?" he asked them.

 

Severus nodded and Stiles held the phone out to him. "What is this?" asked Severus.

 

"It's called a cell phone," said Stiles.

 

A dark scowl passed across the older man's face. "I know what a cell phone is, you dolt. What I cannot comprehend is why you are implying that I should take it."

 

Stiles shuffled closer to the bed. He placed himself so close to Severus that he could feel the heat radiating from his knees, which were hung over the side of the bed. Stiles licked his lips and held the phone out again. "Lydia would like to speak to you."

 

_________

 

Severus had absolutely zero desire to speak with a stranger over the phone, but then he considered the fact that apparently banshees were  _not_ extinct and he grasped the phone in his hand. "This is Severus Snape."

 

There was no sound for some time on the other side, and Severus was beginning to think that the magic of St. Mungos had killed the electronics when the woman finally spoke up. "Look," she started, "Stiles is like a brother to me. He's been through a lot of shit and he doesn't need more trouble piled onto his plate." Severus considered all of his baggage as he stared at the young man before him and listened to the voice on the phone. "But at the same time, no one here can really understand what he's been through. If anyone can--" 

 

She stopped herself, and Severus' mind ran through the possible endings of that sentence.

 

"Stiles needs a partner, a confidant, and a friend. He needs someone who can love him unconditionally no matter what his past or future may be. If you become that for him, he will follow you to hell and back." 

 

There was a deep breath on the line, and Severus thought he heard her voice hitch. Was she crying?

 

Lydia continued, "Stiles will do anything for the people that he loves.  _Anything_. Do not abuse that privilege and treat him with respect."

 

Severus growled. "Do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do."

 

"Fine," she huffed angrily. "Then I'll warn you instead. If you hurt Stiles, I will find you, and I will scream at you until your brain melts out through your ears."

 

Severus' dark eyes widened as he wondered about the veracity of that claim. He studied the face of the young man in front of him. The amber eyes were misleading, he realized. There was very little warmth in the honey gaze. Just who was this muggle? Was he even really a muggle at all? Good friends with a banshee, unfazed by kidnappings and magic.  

 

"And let me warn you, Lydia, that I would expel your entrails from your body and peel the skin from your bones before you could inhale a single breath."

 

"Protect him with that same viciousness, and we'll never have to find out who would come out on top."

 

Severus hung up on her and tossed the phone to Granger. "Leave us." 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  



End file.
